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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974469">Checkmate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietx/pseuds/quietx'>quietx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:35:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietx/pseuds/quietx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation, and a critique</p><p>[Midorima tells Akashi about Takao]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Checkmate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akashi swears he didn’t sigh when Midorima made the first move. He plays (and wins) so often, that the shoddy strategy Shintarou is leading with won’t even offer an interesting victory. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Midorima is off his game—not that Akashi hadn’t noticed this the moment he stepped in the room with his pinched browand twitching fingers. He’d suspected that this would be an easy win, but this is simple pathetic. It’s almost like he’d asked to play, not because he wanted some intellectual stimulation, but because he needed to talk to someone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Akashi.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, shit, really? That was a shot in the dark from him, he wasn’t expecting Midorima Shintarou of all people to lead into a vulnerable conversation. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He moves another pawn into a vulnerable position as Akashi responds:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shintarou.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gives a passive, anxious glance towards his game partner, green eyes searching for some validation before he continues. He must find it, because—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How is your new PA working out?” Midorima asks, as if it isn’t a leading question. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akashi hums. “Mm, Tetsuya? Tremendously. I’m satisfied with the stray I picked up.” Shintarou nearly scoffs at his blasé tone. Akashi always speaks as if his every move isn’t planned and carefully considered. “And your new resident?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The twitch in Midorima’s hand as he reaches for his rook gives him away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s doing remarkably well.” He caution and gentleness in Midorima’s tone make Akashi’s insides turn. “I wish he were a bit more professional.” This part—much to Akashi’s displeasure—was laced with genuine <em>affection</em>. Since when did Midorima, highly esteemed, skilled, and blunt Midorima Shintarou become a sap for unprofessionalism? This simply cannot be real. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sounds troublesome,” is all he replies, his tone flat and laced with disdain. Akashi looks up for the first time since the start of their game. He’s not sure why, but Midorima’s expression has shifted from cautious vulnerability to irritation. Apparently, that’s not the response he was hoping for. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akashi takes his queen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p>
  <span class="s1">“I trust <em>your...stray </em>hasn’t been causing problems?” Oh, the way that he hisses the word stray bodes poorly for this conversation. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s unlike you to praise unprofessionalism in the workplace.” The deflect isn’t subtle, and neither is the way he fumbles his last line of defense on the board. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Check.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Praise? Hardly.” A long pause as he reevaluates the board in front of him. “He needs to be more serious.” His king remains safe for the moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you need more serious, Midorima?” Akashi checks him again and Midorima doesn’t immediately move his king. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighs, moving his king into an even worse position. He’s not even *trying* to win. “With you around? Never.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seijuuro looks up sharply, though Midorima remains impassive. Was that a jab at him? Was Midorima Shintarou making fun of him? What—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re meeting for coffee this Thursday. For the third week in a row.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akashi checkmates him, though the victory feels completely vacant. Seijuuro had never, in his entire life, imagined that the iciest of icy would have someone ‘unprofessional’ weasel their way into his heart. Shintarou seemed lighter, like this ever un-serious resident hadn’t just become a part of Midorima’s life, but was chipping quietly at his personality, forcing him into good humor and cheer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you kidding me?” Akashi asks, incredulously, immediately hating his uncontrolled tone. He takes a deep breath, refocusing. “Isn’t he the one who said he loathed you? Who made fun of you for your food choices? I don’t see how you could respect someone like that. He’s beneath you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Again, Akashi watches the subtle shift from neutral to irritable. Thinking about it now, he realizes this has only happened after he’s insulted this other fellow. He should probably start avoiding that now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Akashi, I’m simply letting you know,” he says, his voice cold and sharp. “I don’t welcome your judgement on something that has nothing to do with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you telling me anyway?” he asks, tone now biting. “I would’ve found out eventually. We keep our private lives private, Shintarou. Why not simply let me find out when I find out?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Takao doesn’t deserve your initial criticisms,” he answers simply, now resetting the board. “I think it would be wise of you to think before you share them with me as well.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akashi bites the inside of his cheek. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the board completely set, Shintarou stands again. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be heading out now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Hopefully next time you’ll come with a better strategy,” Akashi comments, remaining seated. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shintarou leaves his home library without any more pleasantries. The conversation is what he came here for, anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Akashi leans back into his chair, letting the air leave his lungs in one breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hates being taken off guard. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Fuck. </em>That really felt like failure. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’ll have to send an apology gift. For Midorima and his beau. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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